


Blank Slate

by TruebornAlpha



Series: Reset Button [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M, Memory Loss, Sciles, Teen Wolf, Werewolves, Witches, season 4 compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2182512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A friendly meeting with a coven of witches didn't end well and Scott McCall finds himself in the hospital with no memories. Scott assumes he and the pretty freckled boy who won't leave his side are dating and Stiles doesn't bother to correct him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blank Slate

All Scott wanted to do was sleep, limbs heavy and mind wandering in and out of awareness. He didn’t want to open his eyes, things were nice as long as he drifted, completely detached. If only it could last. The beeping kept pulling at his attention, a steady mechanical sound that pulsed in time with his own. It was relentless, steadily chipping away at the haze in his head until he was forced to open swollen, sticky eyes to beg for it to stop.

The light was too bright and he winced, squeezing his eyes closed again with a soft whine. The motion sent a wave of pain howling through his nerves, head throbbing like his brains were trying to escape his skull. Every breath made his chest rattle, something broken and catching with a pain so sharp it felt like a stab wound. Even his toes hurt, how could someone’s toes hurt? He tried to rub his eyes, but his hands were taped with tubes and wires, pulling uncomfortably at his skin.

“W-what?”

Scott’s tongue felt thick, unable to get the words out as he forced his eyes to open.  _What happened? Where was he? What was going on? Someone make the beeping stop._

___

It was witches, fucking witches, and there hadn’t been a chipped tooth or pointed hat between them. It was supposed to be some sort of courtesy call. They had been passing through Beacon Hills, and were ‘very honored to meet the untraditional McCall Pack.’ They’d practically come toting ‘True Alpha Rox’ banners. There were only four of them in their coven, and they looked about as threatening as a wet sock, but the youngest one got a little too daring.

Stiles didn’t know exactly what happened, but he knew that hugging Scott shouldn’t have thrown them all to the ground. Somehow they managed to get back up in varying stages of  _ow._  Except Scott. Kira stopped Stiles from beating the living crap out of a twelve year old.

He had never seen Deaton look so mad. 

That had been eight hours and thirty-four minutes ago. Melissa was frantic, but they’d finally coaxed her into taking a nap. Deaton was - flying to the Czech Republic? Stiles had eaten enough hospital pie to turn his stomach into sugar. It didn’t mean anything when Scott wouldn’t wake up.

Stiles heard the beeping quicken before Scott spoke. He tripped over himself to press the nurses’ call button, yelling over his shoulder, “He’s awake!”

He flinched on his best friend’s behalf before throwing himself atop a werewolf with broken bones. He hugged Scott like he wanted to break a few more.

___

The loud voice was worse than the beeping and Scott groaned as his head throbbed in time with his heartbeat. It took a while before the words made sense, his hearing hyprsensitive and raw. A heavy weight hit him in his bruised chest and the boy gasped in pain before managing to coax his arms to work enough to wrap around the person trying to squeeze the breath from his lungs.

“Hey…” Scott managed to croak, voice quiet and tired. The wolf’s hands automatically went to the boy’s hair, stroking through the mess and down the pale skin of his neck. He couldn’t stand to see someone so upset and even barely coherent, moved to comfort Stiles. “Hey buddy, it’s okay. You’re gonna crush me.”

He pushed a little, trying to get Stiles off of his broken ribs and smiled at the other boy. Scott looked worn, bruises darkening his brown skin and lip split open, but already the wounds were starting to heal. Witches or not, they weren’t the same as injuries from another alpha and his body slowly tried to repair itself from the blow. Tired as he was, his eyes lit up as he tipped Stiles’s head to look at him, carefully brushing the bangs from his friend’s face. “Shhhh, don’t be so loud. You look so worried…don’t worry.  What’s your name?”

___

"Dumbass," Stiles chastised, preparing to mock Scott relentlessly for being taken down by a twelve year old as he pulled away, propped up on elbows around Scott’s side. The chick had pigtails for crying out loud. Even Deucalion would have lost all his street cred with pigtails. Then Scott dropped a bomb. Stiles was going to punch a witch.

"Scott?" He asked, jerking back instinctively, and screw not being worried. Blatantly accusing, he ordered, "Don’t mess with me like that, man."

But the nurses were already pushing him back, bustling about and talking about how he’d given them quite a scare, and how someone was calling for his mom; she’d just been in their break room; how everything was going to be okay. 

Stiles hovered around them like a particularly annoying fly. 

The only person he’d let past him was Melissa, who still had pillow creases on her cheek. “Hey Scott,” she greeted, finding a place by his bedside against the wall, actually out of everyone’s way. “How are you feeling?”

___

“Scott?” The boy blinked, eyebrows drawn in confusion as he tried to roll the name across his tongue. It didn’t feel familiar, but there wasn’t time to worry as the sudden flurry of activity left him dizzy. There were so many questions and Scott just shook his head, overwhelmed. Everything just seemed so loud, so…. _much_. The light was too bright, the antiseptic smell too strong and caught in the back of his throat, every touch sent sparks racing down his skin. He was an exposed nerve, panic rising as he struggled to breathe.

The worried face of the nurse calmed him immediately. He didn’t recognize the dark hair or the concerned brown eyes, but Scott smiled up at her as she stroked a hand across his forehead. There was something soothing about her, like he could trust her to take care of everything. “I’m okay.” He tried to reassure her, clearing his throat and trying to find his voice. “It hurts a little, but please don’t look so worried. Everyone is looking at me like that. Am…I Scott?”

Melissa schooled her expression to keep the fear from her face. “You don’t remember baby?”

“No?”

“It’s okay. Sometimes when you get hurt, it takes a while to sort through things. We’ll get a doctor in to make sure there’s nothing wrong.” She kissed his temple and Scott felt guilty, easily picking up on her stress.

___

Melissa had the patience of a saint. It wasn’t enough for both her and Stiles.

"He doesn’t remember?!" He blurted out, rushing to Scott’s side and nearly knocking over another nurse. Lydia was combing through a 48 page report in Archaic Latin of all known side-effects of rampant witch magic, and Melissa already had a set of transfer documents prepared so no one was privy to the medical miracle that was her son. They still weren’t prepared for this.

Stiles gripped Scott’s hand like he had dibs on it. He turned to Scott, about to demand his memory to get itself checked, but the words died on his tongue. 

"Stiles," Melissa warned, like she knew exactly what he was thinking. She probably did. Stiles wished she’d tell him, because he was trying to shift through waves of  _permanent Scott no please what I’m your best friend kill the witch PERMANENT?!_ "You’re safe now, Scott. We’ll sort this out."

Dr. Wilcott was in good-spirits for three in the morning. Stiles didn’t realize he’d held Scott’s hand through his interrogation until it was over. 

___

Scott (they assured him that was his name) did his best to answer all the questions everyone kept asking him. Anything to get them to stop being so worried. They were all so nice to him, they really seemed to care and Scott felt badly about making them unhappy. His mom was amazing, he watched her in a quiet sort of awe as she took charge of the room. She was really smart and everyone listened to her even though she never raised her voice. When she smiled at him, he couldn’t help but smile back.

And that pretty boy with the honey brown eyes and the freckled skin who held his hand so tightly. Every time Scott looked at him, he grinned, wanting to pull the boy into his arms and promise it would be all right. Anything to get that look from his face. They told him that they would find an answer and inexplicably he trusted them.

He squeezed Stiles’s hand, trying to distract him. “Talk to me? Tell me things, maybe it’ll help. How did we meet? How long have we been together?”

___

Scott didn’t respond to ‘Scott.’ That hit Stiles harder than he thought it would. Dr. Wilcott, with all his medical training, wanted to keep him overnight for observation. Melissa knew her son was a werewolf, and wanted to take him to a vet. It would have been hilarious and awe-inspiring to watch their back-and-forth if his best friend could respond to his own name. He wasn’t sad to watch them go.

Stiles hadn’t thought about what would happen if they couldn’t get Scott back. That thought was tucked away and consciously sealed off from the rest of his brain matter. He squeezed Scott’s hand every time it tried to break free.

Scott sensed weakness and went in for the kill. The Alpha was a douche under all those dopey endearing smiles. Stiles would have been relieved if he wasn’t trying to stop blinking his eyes out.

"Together."

___

“Well….yeah?” Scott tugged on their entwined hands, bringing them up to his chest. He could feel the stress almost radiating from the other boy’s skin, that was probably a weird thing if he stopped and tried to wonder about it. People didn’t usually  _feel_  things like that, did they? No one else seemed concerned about it, so he took his cues from them and let it pass.

He traced his thumb along Stiles’s hand, relaxed and careless as he settled back into the pillows. The pain had subsided into a dull ache and his head almost felt back to normal except for a faint ringing in his ears. That nurse, his mom, she seemed so confident that he’d heal well and Scott thought she must be right about everything.

The wolf smiled back up at Stiles like it should be the most obvious thing in the whole world. “You’re really pretty. Like,  _wow_. I must be really lucky. Though seriously, what kind of name is Stiles? I don’t think that sounds like a real name at all. At least ‘Scott’ is sort of a name. Maybe more like a sneeze, but you know…”

___

"Huh."

Pretty. Scott said pretty. That should not have rocked Stiles’ world. He looked down at their hands, but didn’t move to pull away, drawing a careful arch with his thumb across Scott’s. If the True Alpha said you were pretty, well. Stiles didn’t think things through. He was a master at shelving ideas for a later date, like after they found the other half of a dead body.

"It’s for your benefit, dumbass. You can’t say my whole name." Stiles huffed, but a grin tugged at his features. Scott was the only one who knew how to. He doubted even Lydia could. "Move over."

It was too easy to plaster himself to Scott’s side. They’d been doing that for years, and were now thoroughly skilled in the ways of sharing a single bed. Stiles heart did a  _thing._  He buried his face in Scott’s hair, and that thing got simultaneously better and worse.

"Dude, we were four when we met. You were making a lame sandcastle. You liked my lunch box. I liked your suspenders. I grabbed ‘em, and made you cry." Stiles didn’t remember peeing on Scott’s castle, or Scott’s outrage. He remembered thwacking his dorky little suspenders, so hard Scott teared up, and lunged at him. When Jackson Whittemore tried the same thing, Stiles threw a bucket at his head. Good times. Stiles would be damned if he couldn’t stop his face from softening either. "I’ll tell you the fun stuff when we get out of here."

___

“I’ll bet I could.” Scott accepted the challenge without missing a beat, that much of his personality firmly intact. He scooted over obediently as far as he could in the tangle of tubes and sensors that held him captive in the too small bed, curling against the boy beside him so he didn’t fall out and land on his ass. Stiles was nice, he really seemed to care and it was easy for Scott to fit his body against his. The wolf slung his arm around the other boy’s waist, closing his eyes as he breathed in the scent of his skin. If there was any worry left in him, it melted away as Scott wrapped the scent around himself like a blanket. Nice. This was nice and safe and right.

“Four? We must know each other really well then. I’m pretty sure you stopped grabbing on to my stuff and making me cry though, right?” He teased, wishing he could remember. There were so many questions, he felt like he was groping in the dark for things that he knew must be there, brushing his fingertips along the edges but unable to reach. As bad as it must be for him, he was sorry to make everyone else worry about him too. How strange it must be to know all the things that he didn’t? Scott hoped he wasn’t causing any problems.

“You better, I want to know everything.” Maybe something would jog his memory and everything would shake back into place. Until then, Scott took Stiles at his word and nuzzled down into the other boy. It would work out, they said it would and that meant it would. No use worrying about something he didn’t remember anyways, not when the nice, pretty boy in his arms was pressed so close and everything felt so much better.

___

This hadn’t changed. Stiles breathed a sigh of relief he didn’t know he was fighting back, melting against Scott’s grip to reflexively seek comfort. Scott was still so good at offering it. Part of Stiles had been afraid that something would have shifted. There was no reason to fear that, not really. It was such a small thing…

"Different set of stuff," Stiles boasted wickedly, wriggling his eyebrows. It lasted for all of two seconds, before bravado stuttered to a stop, leaving Stiles floundering. "I mean we - we haven’t done.  _That_  you know, we. I mean, I want to, totally. We’re just taking it slow?”

Scott was like a personal heater, and Stiles pressed as close as he could go, hiding a groan against his best friend’s crown. He squeezed Scott’s hip, brutally reminded of how thin his hospital gown was, but Scott hadn’t pushed him away yet.

"For the record," Stiles mumbled. "I wouldn’t do something you weren’t really, really into."

He smoothed the fabric down Scott’s side. It was an awful tease, the potential of all that strong muscle just beneath warm skin. Stiles touched everywhere he wasn’t supposed to (but they already did, just not like this). “So uh… You once got scratched in the eye by a pigeon you were trying to juggle. You ran away to be a carnival acrobat, and you’re the only heathen I know who likes black licorice more than red.”

And Stiles was just getting started.

___

 _Taking it slow?_   Scott almost laughed at how the boy’s face went from wicked to flustered in a matter of seconds. It was adorable, like he was trying so hard to put up an all knowing front but was still so nervous underneath. If they’d known each other since they were four, what was there to be nervous about? The wolf slid a leg between Stiles’s to better tangle their limbs together, feeling more calm than he had since he regained consciousness.   _He wanted to, that was really sweet_.

“I know you wouldn’t.” He couldn’t explain why he knew. It was a weird feeling to trust someone without knowing anything about them. Scott stretched under Stiles’s hand, shifting to be closer. “I was trying to juggle pigeons?” That didn’t seem so likely, but if Stiles said it was… “I didn’t know you could juggle birds. Ooh, is it sort of like the circus? Did you come with me? I’ll bet I was pretty good at it, huh.” Maybe juggling birds was part of his act in the carnival. That seemed pretty exciting.

Scott pressed his nose into the boy’s chest, breathing deeply. He didn’t want to go back to sleep anymore, but it was hard to resist when everything was so comfortable and safe. “I’m glad you’re here. I know it’s gonna be okay. Just stay with me until I remember things, please?”

___

Scott kept doing things, and Stiles tried very hard not to melt. That didn’t stop him from taking full advantage of the situation when Scott’s hospital gown popped, and he could run a shaky hand up the curve of the Alpha’s spine. Stiles’ toes curled in his sneakers. He rested his hand over his best friend’s butt, and waved Brocode goodbye.

"Separate occasions, dude," he huffed out a laugh, his voice finding strength as he continued. "We thought it was more impressive than knives - course we couldn’t catch any, then we had to call the hospital. You wore an eye-patch for two weeks, it was awesome… Then you kinda just ran away from your mom for like twelve hours. They let us ride in the cop car on the way back from the carnival. I found you first."

There was unashamed pride in his tone, and Stiles only hesitated a beat before kissing Scott’s brow. His heart tried to jump through his chest at the same time Melissa walked in, pushing a wheelchair. For all her exasperation, she didn’t look surprised. “Come on, boys. Let’s get out of here.”

___

“Then I really wish I could remember.” Scott murmured, wiggling under the teasing touch. It felt good, the wolf felt like groaning as he shivered and goosebumps raced across his skin. He gave a huffing laugh as Stiles’s hand found its way downwards and he wiggled again, teasing back. This was good, that part of himself that seemed to know things he couldn’t remember felt like this was right. There wasn’t any anxiety or confusion, just a quiet sort of satisfaction in how close they could get to each other and the way Scott could hear the other boy’s heart beat and skip.

“You look out for me, don’t you?” That was such an amazing thought. No wonder the pretty boy seemed so worried. Scott thought he sounded like a bit of a troublemaker, he must make Stiles worry all the time. “I’m sorry.” He traced his finger down the side Stiles’s jaw, watching him closely like he could memorize the lines of the boy’s face.

Scott barely blinked as his mom brought the wheelchair into the room and smiled, shamelessly untangling himself to sit up. “Are we going to go home now? Can Stiles come too?”

___

"No way, dude, I get you into all the fun things." Stiles bragged, shit-eating grin loaded with besotted admiration. After a beat, he added, "We look out for each other." Scott’s eyes were so expressive and sweet. Stiles wondered what they’d look like when they were crinkled in the corners, and he was kissing Scott to an inch of his life. Those were inappropriate thoughts to have when his brofriend’s mom walked in, but Stiles was going to Hell anyway.

Stiles looked insulted that anyone would think he wasn’t coming along. Melissa scrubbed a tired hand over her face, as she handed Scott his clothes. “Just call your father, Stiles.”

Stiles smacked Scott on the cheek with his mouth, and pretended he didn’t notice the skeptical look Melissa sent them. He caught up with them at the elevators, taking over pushing Scott without saying a word, even though the Alpha already looked significantly better than he did when he first woke. “By the way, dude,” he said as the metal doors closed. “You’re a werewolf.”

___

“Okay. We look out for each other.” The words seemed like they had weight to them, there was something more important behind them that he just couldn’t quite remember. It meant  _something_ , Scott just didn’t know what.  The kiss left him grinning as he slid off the bed and wobbled a little, holding on to the edge to steady himself as his mother handed him clothes.

“He’s a really nice guy.” He said quietly and Melissa sighed, nodding her head.

“He’s your best friend, sweetheart. You two are practically joined at the hip.”

Scott looked up as Stiles as they entered the elevator, happy to be getting out of this chair and going…home? Home. Wherever that was. At least there were pants now, that was a big improvement. “Hm? I’m a…huh?” He raised an eyebrow, staring at Stiles like he was crazy.  “A werewolf. Like, big hairy monster thing with the teeth and the claws and howling at the moon? C’mon, I believe the running away to the carnival thing, but that’s a little much even for me. Stuff like that doesn’t exist, right? Right? ….Stiles?”

___

And oh shit, Stiles was going to milk this amnesia thing. He had to. There’d be enough people taking it seriously, and Scott - probably wouldn’t need an extra layer of caution around him. First though, he had to get through the truth. This was going to be so great! He patted Scott’s poofy head. ”Nope. Werewolf.”

"He’s telling the truth, Scott." Melissa sighed, exasperated all over again, even as an undercurrent of worry crept into her tone. Stiles didn’t look too closely at that. He squeeze Scott’s shoulders and barreled on bravely.

"And the ones who did all this?  _Witches._  Witches this high.” He held his hand just above Scott’s arm rest, tension bleeding away as he got rolling. “With pigtails. She hugged you, because you’re a big fancy werewolf, and took out the entire clearing. She’s grounded for a decade. Her uncle was hurt bad, and oh man, Kira, dude Kira was -“

Stiles cleared his throat, reading something less consoling than awe on both McCalls’ face. “Yeah, you’re a big fancy werewolf.”

___

“Oookay.” Big fancy werewolves. And witches? He was living in some kind of urban fantasy young adult novel. Scott glanced from Stiles to his mom, watching to see if they were joking and was a little disheartened by the serious expression on their faces. Werewolf. He was some kind of monster. He didn’t _feel_  much like a monster, but then what exactly were monsters supposed to feel like?

Scott stared at Stiles silently as he rambled about witches and pigtails, stomach dropping as he realized the boy was serious about every word. What the hell was his life? “Wait, wait…witches made me not remember things? Tiny baby witches. Who’s Kira? Is she a witch too? Slow down, I can’t keep up.”

He reached for Stiles’s hand, lacing his finger back with the other boy’s. It made him feel safe before, it should help now when his head spun with monsters and magic and names he didn’t recognize. “Start at the beginning. So I’m a big fancy werewolf or something and I was hurt by a witch and now I can’t remember things and something about Kira. Stiles, if I’m a werewolf, what are you?”

___

Oh shit, back it up.

Stiles’ thoughts grounded to a halt when Scott sounded like that, and he replayed everything he’d said in rapid succession. He probably should have guarded his words better, but his filter worked as an all-or-nothing sort of deal. He squeezed Scott’s hand, tight like he planned on never letting go. “Your best friend.”

The elevator opened with a ding, and Stiles pushed Scott at an angle because he didn’t want his hand back. “Yeah so, you’re a big fancy werewolf. You’re the best werewolf around, like a nice werewolf. You’re kind of amazing.”

They rolled over a crack in the asphalt, which jerked them both enough that Stiles could clear his throat, and Melissa’s solemn expression could soften. “You have a - pack. Yeah… With Kira, Lydia, Malia, Liam, and y’know, your Mom… Deaton, and this one creepy old werewolf called Derek. You’ll meet them all tomorrow - later today.”

Stiles squeezed his hand, trying to reassure Scott, and out of everything he said, there was just one thing he needed him to believe. “You’re our Alpha. You’re damn good at being our Alpha.”

___

Scott laughed, pretty sure that he should be worried about “big fancy werewolves” and packs and creepy old Derek, but nothing really seemed to bother him with Stiles’s hand in his and his mother close behind. If they were sure about this werewolf thing, then it must be true no matter how crazy it sounded. There seemed to be a whole lot of people in on it. How many werewolves were there around here anyways? Or maybe they weren’t all werewolves, Stiles didn’t say he was one.

It was a detached sort of curiosity, like looking in on someone else’s life. Scott felt like he was reading some kind of story, not really connecting any of this with himself. It was a strange fantasy world, but if that’s what they believed, then he’d find a way to fit back into it. It would make sense again someday. Until then, he wasn’t going to worry. There was enough to think about in the meantime, like remembering to respond when someone said the name ‘Scott’.

But…Stiles talked about him being an  _alpha_  like it was the most important thing in the world. Like his friend believed in him, counted on him to do something even if he couldn’t remember what it was. Something proud bloomed in his chest that people he didn’t know had faith in him and even if he didn’t understand why, he decided with a strange sort of conviction that he wasn’t going to let them down.

___

Then Stiles rolled Scott into their car. He remembered to open the door first, but still. He bundled Scott into the backseat, before running off to return the wheelchair. By the time he slipped in beside his best friend, Stiles was huffing and puffing, and very lame pudgy human. He still slung an arm across Scott’s shoulders and shoved him against his chest. “Drive, Mrs. Mc-C!”

"Don’t push it, Stiles."

"No more pushing, got it."

They stopped by a McDonalds to test out Scott’s werewolf-y metabolic needs, and for a guy who’d spent the better part of eight hours in a plastic hospital chair, Stiles was pretty excitable. He stuffed food into Scott’s face, trying to see if he could still fit four chicken nuggets into his mouth now that he’d forgotten his training, and getting handsy like Melissa was blind. By the time they rolled into Scott’s room, Stiles was attached to his best friend’s hip, grinning more easily than he had in months.

Then he kissed Scott, and his entire world fell apart. His lips tasted like salt. Stiles pushed it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ongoing collaborative work/RP!
> 
> You can find Tmautog's awesome fics on [tumblr](http://tmautog.tumblr.com/tagged/writing) and keep up with this story [here](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can read Rune/TruebornAlpha [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](runicscribbles.tumblr.com)


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